


These Shadows You Have Shown Me

by lockedin221b



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Chair Sex, Comfort, Confessions, First Kiss, Frottage, Guilt, M/M, Post-The Reichenbach Fall, Sherlock Holmes Returns after Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-18
Updated: 2013-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-05 00:37:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1087504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lockedin221b/pseuds/lockedin221b
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Julian Anderson hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in two and a half years. It didn’t matter that Sherlock hadn’t really jumped off St. Bart’s... Julian was certain his guilt would never wash away.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	These Shadows You Have Shown Me

**Author's Note:**

> Uhm. This ended up a lot more heartfelt than I intended for an Anderlock piece.
> 
> Thanks to shermanmccoy on tumblr for [first name suggestions](http://lockedin221b.tumblr.com/post/70195152477/).

Julian Anderson hadn’t had a good night’s sleep in two and a half years. It didn’t matter that Sherlock hadn’t really jumped off St. Bart’s, that Moriarty had planted evidence and framed him. It didn’t matter that Sherlock brushed off his and Sally’s apologies, telling them it was only expected average people like them fell for Moriarty’s trap. Julian was certain his guilt would never wash away.

It was the quiet week between Christmas and New Years. Julian sat in his flat at half one, half-watching the news, when there was a knock at the door. He rubbed his face and checked his watching with a frown, then his phone, but there were no missed calls or texts. Reluctantly, at the second set of knocks, he muted the telly and dragged himself to the door. He looked through the peephole, and his chest clenched painfully at the sight of the man on the other side of the door. He unlocked the door and opened it slowly.

“Evening,” Sherlock said.

“Yeah,” Julian muttered. “Is there something you want?”

“To come in, for one. Bit brisk out, if you hadn’t noticed.”

With a scowl, Julian shuffled to the side and permitted Sherlock into his flat. “Get bored? Needed someone to insult?”

Sherlock gave the flat a sweeping look before settling his gaze on Julian. “So, when was the divorce?”

“Fourteen months ago.”

“Mutual, I gather.”

“Very.” Julian crossed his arms. “What do you want, Sherlock?”

“Quite frankly, to get Donovan and Lestrade off my back.” Sherlock peeled off his gloves and put them in his coat pocket. “They’re under the impression that you’re holding onto some ridiculous sense of guilt over what transpired the other year. Apparently I’m the one responsible for assuaging that guilt.”

“They’re wrong, so thanks, you can leave now.”

“Oh no, they’re quite right.” Sherlock gave him one of his more invasive gazes. “You continue to hold onto guilt. Cling to it, one might say. I simply don’t see how I’m supposed to fix it, or why I ought to.”

Julian swallowed hard. “You’re not. I’ll tell Sally and Greg to stop harassing you.”

“How generous of you.” Sherlock glanced around before dropping into Julian’s only chair in the lounge. “Unfortunately for both of us, I can relate to an unremitting sense of guilt. My conscience, more than any harassment, is what brings me here.”

“You have a conscience?” Julian scoffed.

“Yes. His name’s John, and he’s been particularly irksome since I came back.”

“Right.” Julian stood where he was, eventually shuffling his weight from one foot to the other and back, as silence fell between them, and Sherlock refused to so much as blink.

“Well?”

“Well what?” Julian snapped. 

“Why do you continue to feel guilty about something that was far beyond your ability to control?”

“Did you become a shrink while you were dead?”

“I came here, believe it or not, with the intention of making an effort.” Sherlock stood, his coat sweeping at his back. “However, if you want to muck about in your misplaced sense of guilt, Julian, then I-”

“You know my name.” Julian blinked in surprise.”

Sherlock rolled his eyes. “Of course I know your name.”

“You didn’t know Greg’s name, after six years working with him.”

“I did. No one seemed to get the stab at humour. Did you all really think Donovan was the only one whose name I knew on the force?”

“Well you two did sleep together.”

Sherlock smirked. “She told you about that then?”

“She my best mate, of course she told me.”

“Jealous?”

“What?” Julian choked out.

Sherlock’s eyebrow raised slightly. “Huh. I wasn’t expect that response. Never mind. I will say this one last time, Julian: Moriarty was playing us, all of us. He played the Yard, he played John, he played me. He even played Mycroft. So stop sopping about in some idiotic pit of guilt. No one else is, and there are others with more reason to than you.” Sherlock brushed past him toward the door.

“I didn’t-” Julian took a slow breath. Sherlock had stopped, though he had his back still to Julian. “I didn’t believe it, that you were the kidnapper, or the killer. That you created Moriarty. I never believed it.”

Sherlock turned to him slowly, and there was a faint spark of fury in his eyes. “Then why back Sally’s accusations?”

“I didn’t think-” he paused on habit, expecting a snide remark about his ability to think, but none came. “I didn’t think it would go so far. All I wanted was the knock down your ego, to make you undergo the same kind of scrutiny you give everyone else. I never thought—never meant for it to be more than that.” Julian was amazed by his ability to keep eye contact with Sherlock the entire time he spoke, but, as the silence following his words stretched on, his gaze began to falter.

Sherlock stepped up to him, staring down at him. “Well you failed. My ego,” he sneered, “is quite intact. In fact, you may have bolstered it with your confession. Moriarty couldn’t even successfully fool some of the people who hate me most.”

Julian laughed. It surprised him as much as Sherlock. “I don’t hate you, Sherlock.”

“No, I’m quite sure you do.”

Julian shook his head. “I really don’t. I hate things about you, I hate the way you treat me, how treat people in general, but I don’t hate you.” He met Sherlock’s gaze once more. “I admire you. Not your personality, that’s complete shite. Your skills, though. I spent years getting to where I am, a forensics expert for the Met, and you come along and it’s so natural to you. It’s infuriating, but it’s also incredible. Professionally speaking, I look up to you.” It wasn’t as satisfying as it might have once been to see the look on Sherlock’s face, to watch the smug attitude replaced with sincere surprise. Julian had finally been unpredictable to the genius, and all he could feel was guilt.

When Sherlock spoke, it was with his usual patronizing tone, “You’ve proved yourself to be even more of an idiot than I thought.”

Julian only shrugged. “And you’re a good actor. I know you’re human, Sherlock. You proved that much when you faked your suicide to keep other people alive. You may still be a dick, but you lost your high ground. You care what people think of you. Maybe not in the traditional sense, maybe not for the traditional reasons, but you do care.”

“There’s only one person whose opinion of me I care about.”

“And that’s a lot more than there used to be.” Julian stuffed his hands into his jeans. “Sorry, Sherlock, but John’s made you human. I feel guilty about what I did. I don’t think I’ll ever stop feeling guilty, I don’t think I can. I don’t even know if I want to. At the end of the day, though, part of that guilt is because I know I did it to a person, not a idol.”

Sherlock snorted. “It’s quite the opposite. You feel guilty because you believe you wronged and disappointed your idol.”

Julian shook his head. “No. I always disappoint you.”

“You’re wrong.” Sherlock leant close and lowered his voice, “You can’t disappoint me. I don’t care enough for you to disappoint me.”

“Then why are you still here?” He grabbed Sherlock by his scarf when he tried to back away. “I’ll tell you why: you like people gawking over you, your genius. You like people tripping over themselves trying to impress you.”

Sherlock scowled. “Let go.”

Instead, Julian pulled the scarf and the attached consulting detective closer. “Wake up, Sherlock. I’ve been trying to impress you for years.”

“And you do a poor job of it.”

“No, I don’t think I do. You may have been off bringing down a global criminal network for two years, but the only thing I’ve had to keep me occupied is work. No matter what you think or say, I’m good at what I do. I may not have your cleverness, but I’m still good at my job. And I’ve thought about the years I spent under shadow, since you came tromping through the yard with your natural talent and your shitty personality. I know you tell Greg and Sally and everyone else who’ll listen how much you hate working with me, how useless I am, but the truth of the matter is: I’m the best the Met’s got.” Julian finally let go of Sherlock’s scarf. “I looked back at all the cases you worked, after your ‘suicide’. You know what I found out?”

Sherlock smoothed down his scarf “Your obsessive and misplaced idolatry?”

“I’m the only forensics expert you worked with more than once.” Julian crossed his arms. “You may tell everyone you can’t work with me, I’m too stupid, but you flat out refuse to work with anyone else on the forensics team after one go.”

After a moment of pursing his lips, Sherlock nodded. “Congratulations, Julian Anderson: you’re the least idiotic in a group of idiots.”

“And you push people away.”

Sherlock laughed. “If it took you seven years to figure that out-”

“You push away people you think you might actually connect with.” Julian relaxed his shoulders and let his arms drop to his sides. “I’m not an idiot, Sherlock. You spent five years pissing me off so much I couldn’t see it, but then you were gone and hindsight is twenty-twenty. Greg, Sally, me? John and Molly? I see it now. It took you being dead and gone, but I see it. You don’t hate us; you like us, and not just so you can preen around us. We’re actually people you can stand to be around, but you’re so self-absorbed and socially incompetent that you pretend to shove us off like we’re baggage.”

“Incredible. Your guilt has led you to fabricate delusions.”

“No, it hasn’t I wouldn’t feel half as guilty as I do if I hadn’t figure this out. Fine, deny it if you want.” Julian waved his hand toward the door. “I’ll still feel guilty about what I did to you, but I’m done letting you walk over me.”

Sherlock grinned.

“What?”

“Seven years.”

Julian gave an uncertain shrug.

“Sally figured it out in two.”

“Figured what out?”

“I knew you’d get there, eventually.”

Julian rolled his eyes and threw up his arms. “What are you talking about?”

Sherlock unwound his scarf and peeled off his coat. Before Julian could ask, Sherlock tossed both over the telly, which was still going on mute. “Of those people you named, do you know what you all have in common?”

“An unending patience with you?”

Sherlock chuckled and put his hands in his pockets. “No. Patience is certainly not a shared trait among the five of you. You’re right, Julian, you are smart, for the average person.”

Julian blinked hard. “Did you… Did you compliment me?”

“What the five of you have, however, is potential. Not solely due to your intelligence, but your persistence. It’s not blind stubbornness; you all can tell when something’s off, even if you can’t figure out what, and you push and push until it comes to the surface. Like removing a deep splinter. Only, if you go digging around blindly, you’ll cause more damage. You five, though, you take the gradual, tactical approach. You get frustrated, you might give up, but it’s always temporary. Eventually, you go back to pushing.”

“I honestly have no idea what you’re saying.”

“It’s why Moriarty’s plan worked so well, especially with Sally. He set it up perfectly really. Instead of blatantly framing me with murder and kidnapping, he put down the clues and hints to suggest something was off. That’s what Sally followed: her instinct. She knew something was off, and she knew it came back to me. That’s all Moriarty wanted: seed the doubt, without ever needing any real proof.”

Julian shook his head, frowning. “You’re saying-”

Sherlock pressed his hand to Julian’s shoulder. “What I’m saying, Julian, is you’re right.” He leant next to Julian’s ear and whispered, “This is the only time I’ll ever say it, so savour it.” Then he turned his face and kissed Julian’s cheek. “Well done.”

Julian wasn’t quite sure what he was doing as he was doing it, but he grabbed the lapels of Sherlock’s perfectly tailored jacket and tugged him close before the other man could back away. He paused for half a breath before pressing his mouth to Sherlock’s.

Sherlock didn’t retract. In fact, he was incredibly receptive. He kissed back and brushed the backs of his fingers over Julian’s hair. When the kiss stopped, he rested the same hand on Julian’s shoulder. “This won’t change anything.”

“It changes everything.”

“I’m not going to let your mistakes slide. I’ll call you out on every one.”

“I don’t care.” Julian tightened his hold on Sherlock’s jacket.

“But do you know why?” He said it anyway, despite Julian’s nod, “The potential is there, and you do no one any favours by squandering it.”

“Even you make mistakes.”

Sherlock smiled. “Well, as you said, I am human.”

Julian smiled and pulled Sherlock back toward him for another kiss. This one was slower, deeper. Julian pushed Sherlock’s jacket off his shoulders and began undoing his always too-tight buttons. “Do you do this intentionally?” he murmured against Sherlock’s open mouth. “Wear shirts a size too small?”

Sherlock laughed softly and pulled off Julian’s jumper. He kissed Julian just below his ear, at the edge of his beard. “You have to promise me one thing.”

“What?” Julian flicked open the last button on Sherlock’s shirt and began tugging it out of his trousers. Sherlock stilled his hands, and he looked up.

“Stop feeling guilty.”

Julian’s fingers went lax, and the shirt began slipping from his hands. “I don’t know if I can.”

“You have to.” Sherlock brought his hands up to his mouth and kissed his knuckles. “Like you said, you never thought it would go where it did, as far as it did. You didn’t know I was being framed.”

“Ignorance isn’t an excuse. If anyone’s hammered that into my head, it’s you.”

Sherlock raised an eyebrow and nodded. “True, usually. In this case, however, I’m letting things slide. James Moriarty’s intellect rivalled my own, my brother’s.”

Julian grimaced. “And us average types had no hope, right?”

“I said you were bright on the average scale.” Sherlock frowned. “I never said you were average, Julian.”

“Jules.”

“Hm?”

“Please, call me Jules.”

Sherlock nodded. “Alright. Forgive yourself, Jules, for your sake and mine.” He kissed his hands again.

Julian pushed past Sherlock’s hold and cupped his face. “Okay.” He kissed Sherlock and lowered his hands to finish discarding the man’s shirt.

Sherlock dropped his head to Julian’s shoulder and began kissing and nipping at his neck. For a moment, Julian went still, inhaling a ragged breath as Sherlock left mark after mark and began unbuttoning Julian’s jeans. “You’ve never been with another man,” Sherlock muttered against his skin.

“Is that a question or a deduction?”

Sherlock pressed a smile to his shoulder. “Politeness dictates I say the former.”

“Since when are you polite?” Julian moved his fingers again, this time to open Sherlock’s belt and trousers. “No, and for some reason this doesn’t bother me.” He shuddered when he felt Sherlock’s tongue up his throat. “Maybe it would bother me, if it were someone else. With you, though, it doesn’t. I don’t know why, but it just doesn’t.”

Sherlock paused with his thumbs under the elastic band of Julian’s pants. “If you’re sure then-”

“I’m sure.”

Sherlock nodded and pushed Julian’s pants and trousers down. Julian finished unzipping Sherlock’s and did the same. They shuffled out of their last articles of clothing. Sherlock took hold of Julian’s hips and turned them until he sat back in Julian’s chair, pulling Julian into his lap.

“Sherlock?”

Sherlock hummed against his chest, where he was preoccupied placing kiss after kiss.

Julian, one hand steadying himself on Sherlock’s shoulder, combed his other through Sherlock’s curls. “How did you know?”

“Anything in particular?”

“That I wanted this?”

“I wasn’t entirely sure until ten minutes ago.”

Julian smiled. “You went into this not knowng?”

Sherlock looked up at him. “I suspected. Particularly since my return, I suspected. You were rather eager to help voice my innocence to the public, to the Yard.”

“You didn’t figure it was just guilt?”

“It could have been. It could also have been something more.” He pressed his nose to Julian’s chest and ran his tongue up his sternum.

Julian shuddered, but he pushed Sherlock’s shoulders back. Sherlock gave him an annoyed look, which only amused Julian in that moment. “How long have you wanted this?”

“I want someone who’s going to challenge me, who’s not going to roll over when I’m being a prick or go off sulking.”

“John doesn’t. John never has.”

“John’s my friend. My best friend. For a long time, my only friend. He would never be my lover, though.”

There was an unwanted sinking feeling in Julian’s gut. “So, I’m your second choice?”

Sherlock sighed and leant back in the chair. He still had his hands on Julian’s hip, though their grip relaxed. “No. It became evident very early on in my relationship with John that we would never be anything other than friends. I trust him more than I have ever trusted anyone, myself included, and I believe he feels the same about me. We could never be lovers, though. I saw that at the beginning, so it has never been an avenue I had any intention to pursue.”

“Instead you pursued the guy who was married to a woman?”

Sherlock gripped Julian’s hips and sat up. “The only thing I wanted from you before this year was for you to come to realise your own potential, your own worth. I hadn’t intended to pursue anything more until recently.”

“When did you decide?”

“Sometime between walking through that door and the moment I kissed you. Is that a problem?”

“It might.” Julian combed his fingers once more through Sherlock’s hair. “If it were anyone else, it might.”

“Good. Now kiss me.”

Julian smiled and leant down to do just that. As he explored Sherlock’s mouth with his tongue, that mouth that had caused him so much aggravation over the years, one of Sherlock’s hands left his hip.

Sherlock shifted his hips and gathered Julian’s cock against his own. Julian gasped, and a second later moaned into Sherlock’s mouth as the genius’ long fingers rubbed their cocks together. Julian put both hands on Sherlock’s shoulders and began rocking into Sherlock’s grasp. Sherlock’s other hand tightened on his hip.

As he grew closer to climaxing, Julian broke the kiss to gulp down air. He pressed his forehead against Sherlock’s, eyes heavily lidded as he looked down between them. “Sherlock,” he panted.

“Julian. Jules.”

“Can you—faster.”

Sherlock’s speed increased, and Julian rocked harder into it with a groan. Sherlock breathed heavily against Julian’s lips. “The first time I worked a case,” Sherlock huffed, “with you on the team, I’d never seen someone so competent.”

“You—couldn’t have—told me—back then?”

Sherlock smiled and dragged Julian’s bottom lip through his teeth. “No. You had to figure it out for yourself first. You had no confidence back then. Constantly seeking approval—from Greg, Sally, me.”

“This is—how you—show me?”

“If I’d told you outright, you’d still be checking every day to make sure I approved, that I still thought you were good at your job.”

“You did—you told me—just now-”

“Only after you told yourself.” Sherlock kissed the corner of his mouth and tightened his grip around their cocks. “Only after you saw it for yourself.”

Julian groaned and pressed his forehead harder against Sherlock’s. “Saw what?”

“How good you are. You’re so very good, Jules. One of the best.”

Julian came with a moan he muffled in Sherlock’s mouth, body jerking into Sherlock’s hand as he dug his fingers into the man’s pale shoulders. Sherlock rubbed him through his orgasm, coating both their pricks with ejaculate, until he suddenly moaned back into Julian’s mouth and squeezed his hand tight, coming with a final tug on their cocks.

Julian slumped forward, letting his forehead fall on Sherlock’s shoulder as he slowly caught his breath. Sherlock’s hand slipped away from their cocks and rested on Julian’s thigh. Sherlock, of course, found his voice first, “So, how was your first time with another man?”

With a smile, Julian lifted his head and looked at Sherlock. “That’s not how I’m looking at it.”

“Oh?”

“Don’t you listen, mister genius? It’s not about being with another man.” He kissed Sherlock’s temple. “It’s about being with you.”

“Of course.”

“And it was good, my first time with you.” Julian looked down. “Messy, but good.”

Sherlock chuckled, and the low rumble was a lovely sound. “We should probably clean up this mess.”

“Mm, probably.”

“I’m running late as it is.”

Julian leaned back and frowned down at him. “For what?”

Sherlock sighed. “Greg refused to let me in on a case until I’d ‘made up’ with you.”

A cold shiver ran down Julian’s spine. “That’s what this is? Was?”

Sherlock looked confused for a moment before realisation flickered into his eyes. “No. God no, of course not. I didn’t anticipate this. This wasn’t planned.” He wrapped his clean hand over the back of Julian’s neck and pulled his head down. “This isn’t me using you, Julian. This is just me.”

Julian closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath. “I said you can call me Jules.” He opened his eyes and smiled again. “Sorry. Panicked.”

“It’s alright.” Sherlock kissed his brow.

“Good case?”

“Double homicide. Stakes of holly in the throats.”

“Someone’s got their Dickens wrong.”

Sherlock’s face twisted in confusion. “Dickens?”

“Don’t you ever read anything besides murder cases?”

“Not really, no.”  
Julian sat back on Sherlock’s legs. “Charles Dickens, A Christmas Carol. ‘Every idiot who goes about with “Merry Christmas” on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart.’ Only this guy seems to have gotten it wrong.”

“Fan of Dickens, I take it?”

“My favourite author in school. Now even.” Julian squinted down at Sherlock. “My god, we’re having a conversation.”

Sherlock smirked. “So we are. However, we’ll have to continue it another time.”

“Murderer, right.” Julian climbed off Sherlock’s lap and onto an unsteady pair of legs. He led Sherlock back to the toilet where they cleaned up. Back in the lounge, while Sherlock dressed and Julian gathered up his clothes, he said hesitantly, “Need any help? On the case I mean.”

“You’re on holiday.” Sherlock tucked in his shirt and did up his trousers. “Enjoy it.”

“What, sit around here, thinking about this?”

Sherlock put on his jacket and picked his coat and scarf off the telly. As he pulled on his outerwear, he gave Julian a smile. “Read some Dickens.”

“Sure, that’ll really keep my mind off things.”

With his hands gloved, Sherlock lifted Julian’s chin and kissed him. “You haven’t had a real holiday in two and a half years. Enjoy this one.”

Julian curled his fingers into Sherlock’s coat and pulled him back for a second, longer kiss. “Fine. When you’re done, though, with the case, come back?”

Sherlock smiled. “Go read your Dickens.”

“Go catch your murderer.” Julian gave him a gentle shove toward the door and grinned back.

  
_Some people laughed to see the alteration in him,_  
 _but he let them laugh, and little heeded them..._  
 _His own heart laughed: and that was quite enough for him._  
~ Charles Dickens, _A Christmas Carol_  



End file.
